


as an apology.

by bittertofu



Series: thirty-five ways he said 'i love you.' [8]
Category: Persona 5
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-29
Updated: 2017-05-29
Packaged: 2018-11-06 07:13:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11031234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bittertofu/pseuds/bittertofu
Summary: Indulgences.





	as an apology.

**Author's Note:**

> a series of drabbles.

 

He told himself it was part of his ploy. That he didn't need Akira Kurusu, but that seducing him would benefit him in the long run. If Akira needed _him_ , he would never betray him, nor even suspect to be betrayed himself.

So kissing him slow in the dark attic of Leblanc, when Morgana stayed with Haru or with Futaba, became as routine as visiting Leblanc in the late hours of the afternoon and evening.

Curled up on Akira's bed, taking as much time as possible to explore each other's bodies, became as second-nature to Akechi as breathing. When Akira whispered to him, sweet nothings, murmurs of love and comfort against his throat, against his jaw, against his chest, Akechi drowned it out. He had to, lest he start to believe Akira's words. Of course, they were all nonsense.

It was...unsettling, how much attention Akira paid to Akechi's hands. Holding them, squeezing them, pressing them against his face and peppering kisses across his palms. Running gentle fingers over scars and scars and scars. At first, Akechi drew back every time Akira did this, gave him a steady look that warned him to keep his distance. Over time, though, he let it be. He convinced himself he had to, to at least present the illusion of letting Akira in, to get Akira to trust him more. He swallowed back the shame at how dirty it made him feel, as if he was preemptively staining Akira with sorrow, with blood.

So much blood on his hands. Soon, so soon, Akira's blood would coat them, too.

The thought sent pangs of excitement through him, and equal portions of dread. He swallowed the dread back and assured himself it was just the regret he knew he'd feel at losing so interesting a plaything.

Akira sighed into Akechi's mouth. “Goro...”

Akira said his name so liberally, all the time. To this day, Akechi could never bring himself to refer to Akira as anything other than “Kurusu.” _Akira_ felt too close, closer than Akechi ever wanted to get to this boy he loathed. He loathed his touch, his heartbeat slamming against his chest, his hitched breath whenever Akechi's hands roamed. He loathed that his own heart, his own breathing, responded in kind.

I dreamt I killed you, Akechi thought with an ill horror as Akira nibbled at his collarbone. And someday, I really will.

A sharp pain pulled him out of his morbid thoughts.

“Ah!”

“Sorry!” Akira said hurriedly. “Sorry.” He licked and licked at Akechi's collarbone, and when Akechi looked down, he saw blood.

It was just like Akira to get too eager and do something like this. Still, the sight of Akira licking off blood...it did something to Akechi. He couldn't have said what.

Reaching down, he pulled at Akira's hair. Akira made a pained expression, which only made Akechi pull harder. Then they were face-to-face, and Akechi licked his own blood off of Akira's lips.

“Kurusu,” he breathed into the minimal space between them, “you're an animal, aren't you?”

Akira grinned, leaned into the crook of Akechi's neck, rolled Akechi's earlobe between his teeth. Akechi shuddered beneath him. Clung tight to Akira's back. Rolled his hips up.

Akira ground down on him, and a moan slipped its way out of Akechi's mouth.

They shouldn't be doing this. Akechi knew they shouldn't be doing this. It was too good for someone like him, too dangerous to be indulging so much in something he sought to destroy.

“Kurusu...I...”

He...what? There was nothing to say. Nothing he wanted to say. Yet, he wanted to say so much. There just weren't words to capture it. So instead, he let Akira kiss him deep, kiss him until his head swam and he knew nothing but the feel of Akira's lips against his lips, tasted nothing but the coffee on Akira's tongue and the lingering copper of blood.

Akira ground down again, and Akechi moaned into his mouth. Akira moaned too, quieter, lower, but still needy as all hell. Akechi bucked his hips just as Akira ground down a third time, and oh, god, it was so _good_.

They rocked into each other, slowly, steadily, and then rapidly, moving and moving until they each came with a shudder and a gasp. Akechi could hardly control his breathing, panted into Akira's neck. Akira, ever gentle, brushed his fingers through Akechi's hair. Found Akechi's hand and squeezed it tight. Then, moving the hand in Akechi's hair down to his chest, he ran his fingers lightly over Akechi's still lightly bleeding skin.

“Sorry,” he said a third time. Kissed where he'd bitten.

Somewhere in the haze of his foggy thoughts, Akechi thought that he really didn't mind the pain.

 


End file.
